Saint Pierre
by Flying Turkies
Summary: :AU: Now that I know you, I wish you were dead. :onesided;sasusaku:


**A/N:** hey guys, it's bear. this fic is an experimental procedure that will reveal the depths of the mind of sakura haruno. (it's also my excuse to try to write something a bit fucked up, ahaha.) yay dark romanticism. it's a bit deep, even for me. hope you enjoy, and yes, the rest of the story will be properly capitalized. no need to worry~.

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><p><strong><em>saint pierre<em>**

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_burn, baby, burn._

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The sky was a grand, thundering shade of gray, loudly asserting its dominance over the lands it shielded from the sun. It had yet to rain, but Sakura was already dreading the inevitable. How long had it been? How long since that dreaded Thursday evening? It was too long to recall, but nothing was too far past to remember.

She travelled with fresh flowers on her lap, riding towards that dank place where the hallways smelled like desperation. The car she rode in was a sleek black, the latest of its kind. The leather interior seemed so warm in contrast to the cold, humid air that possessed the climate. It was comforting.

"Remember, I'll always be here for you. I have a good feeling about today, though. Maybe he'll wake up today." her mother assured. Sakura really, really hoped that he did, that wonderful little crush of hers. She probably should have let go already, though. That boy has been under for so long now; even the doctors had their doubts. Plus, it wasn't like he had ever returned any of her feelings. It was her fault, though. She just hadn't tried hard enough, she guessed.

Feelings for this boy had existed for as long as she could remember. There was just something about him, something mysterious, something enticing, something exciting. He was a kingfisher among crows, a god among men in her eyes. There was no end to her love for the boy, even though he openly and very harshly rejected the mere idea of mutual affection. Sakura just found herself fascinated with him. Her heart fluttered every time he walked by. She kept strands of his hair and a picture in her locket, displaying an almost obsessive affection for him. When asked about it, she would deem it completely normal.

It was so natural for her to love him, despite the fact that the only person in his life was his brother, that sick bastard. She blamed him for her coveted one's hate. After all, when one murders his entire family in cold blood, it would be obvious that he be a sick bastard. Making her soon-to-be beau witness the entire incident made it even more obvious that he needed to die. Her unaware lover was justified in every sense to wish for his death. Sakura just wished he would have noticed her and let her comfort him along the way. She really hated that man more than anything in the entire world. No one made her soul mate suffer like that. Especially if it kept him from leading a happy life with her.

The day after the incident, the news spread like wildfire. Unfotunately, her stupid parents thought the knowledge was too horrifying, too unhuman for her. Nobody told her anything for the first few days; however, when the wind and the wildfire caught up to her, she went running. Sakura was absolutely worried out of her wits, almost to the point of tears when he answered the door. Much like she was going to this very day, she offered him flowers. According to him, she just didn't understand. _He doesn't need her pity. _

His eyes were hollow when he answered the door, his expression the same. Despite being eight, his aura mirrored that of an old man's, one who had seen the horrors of the world and was ruined by it. He was a completely different person from which she used to know. He only exchanged his harsh words for her sympathy and shut the door in her face. But being the sweet girl that she was, she just left the fresh-picked flowers on the porch for him to find later. She couldn't blame him for being upset. She just hope he got better soon.

Five years later, her reason for living decided to leave the country. Five years later, his hate spawned a self-signed warrant for death.

Now, if Sakura was another girl, another person, she would have seen his insane plot for what it was. Unfortunately, she wasn't another girl, another person. She was Sakura, and he was the boy she loved from day one. That was why she just couldn't let him go alone. She stood at the entrance of the neighborhood, waiting for him. It was obvious he was leaving. She suspected it weeks earlier when a strange man came to his house.

She, the class clown, and her unknowing boyfriend had been working on a forest diorama at the time. The day was pretty uneventful. That was, until he came, that stupid son-of-a-bitch snake in the grass. The man offered him preparation for his self-mandated task. That man claimed that he had worked with his brother after he defected from the country, and was somewhat aware of his whereabouts. She could tell that his _(false) _promises served as an incredibly tempting prelude to his brother's demise. That goddamned snake in the grass guaranteed power and success if he were to serve him. That son of a bitch even had the guts to promise a him a new family.

He didn't need a new family. If she had her way, (which she would,) they would eventually have a very happy family of their own one day. They didn't need that liar. They would never need that bastard. That bastard was only out for his large fortune, and they all knew it. The man was famous for being a traitor and the leader of a notorious anarchist faction. Joining up with the likes of that bastard would mean that the apple of her eye would become a rotten fruit that would fall from the tree of her country, only to be eaten by worms on the ground. However, if she knew him as well as she thought she did, he would end up taking the traitorous fall.

And that was why she waited for him at the entrance of their neighborhood. He would not suffer alone. She offered to accompany him, to keep him company, to help him accomplish his (_sick and twisted) _goal, to love him, to make him happy, to fall, and to rot with him. Because she really believed that she could do all of those things for him. She believed that she would be the only thing he needed, wanted, and ever cared for. Hopefully he would realize this soon. If not, she was prepared to be eaten by worms.

When he arrived that night, on his way out to vengeance, he only scoffed at her presence. More harsh words were exchanged for her sympathy, and she exchanged promises for a sense of _(false)_ hope. He ended up leaving her in the end, just like he always did. He knocked her out and left her on a nearby bench. When she awoke the next morning to worried parents and concerned glances from her neighbors, she smiled.

At least he cared enough to keep her from touching the ground.

Every night since that fated encounter, she prayed for his success, as well as a safe return back home. She prayed for the deaths of his brother and the bastard who wanted to rot him to the core and take everything he had. The boy and his fortune and his devtion would be hers, the future wife's. It was assured, she would make it so.

And so, she kept herself clean and celibate for his return, even though she had suitors lined up in the street. She wouldn't abandon him like everyone else had. She was going to be the sole reason for his happiness. Even if it meant being harrassed by her peers and her parents, nothing would ever keep her from leaving him. For when he returned, she knew that he would find comfort in knowing that someone had cared enought to wait for him. Every night she prayed.

In three years, he returned, even more twisted then when he first left. At the very least, her prayers were answered. Both bastards were dead, gone with the worms, and he was home again, safe and sound. She would still join him if he wished for it. She wished endlessly for him to do so. Pitiful girl, foolish thing, to be able to think that he would be able to return to the country to live a fulfilling life with her.

Although something was wrong with that. Something was very wrong if he was coming here, to their small country, with an army of four extremely talented warriors, trained to kill off the ruling council. It wasn't until she found out that one of those warriors was a woman, that she accepted the fact that it was it was her who was wrong. Very wrong.

She couldn't let him suffer like that, no. He needed help. Actually, he was past help, she concluded. The realization that he would never, ever be happy finally hit her. It was all a vicious cycle, one that she would never be apart of. One that she would never be able to stop. It would just keep going _around and around and around_ until everything she knew he cared about _died like those bastards._

Never would she let him kill everything that fed, raised, and cared for him. Never would she let him kill the things he used to love.

Never would she let him become his brother.

It was then that she decided that the only way to soothe his writhing soul would be to kill him before he became even more twisted and spiteful. It was a mercy killing, really. She would become the sole reason for his happiness, and put his soul to peace. She loved him, she really did. That was why she had to defy everything she believed in, and kill him. Better it be her to sin than let some soldier interrogate and kill him. Because, let's face it, she knew he would never tell them anything. He was just too stubborn, she recalled lovingly.

So with gun and bullets in hand, she approached him from the shadows. In a split second, the gun was smoking, and it almost hit him. It almost hit him.

Then, as quick as lightning, he approached her to pierce her with a sword almost as beautiful as he. This time, sympathy was exchanged for insults, but she thought they were lies, as she always did. Outside of her twisted mindset of love, however, were they? For what seemed like hours, she stopped and really thought about his feelings towards her. Her disillusionment with the boy was slowly dying. All of those unreturned phone calls and letters, the endless amount of times that she tried to comfort him, only to be turned down by insults and harsh... realities. They were realities. He didn't care for her. He never did. He never will.

_(He never loved her.)_

So she took her gun, wound in hand, and shot-

she wished the bastard a sea of flames-

and she drifted into sleep-

where her dream no longer lived.

_(He never loved her.)_

In the hospital, where she woke up, she found that life went on. The rebellion was halted, and the three warriors were arrested after causing some major damage. The head councilwoman was struck and unconcious. Hell, she was even considered a national hero. The wound avoided all of her organs, and she was able to return home within a week. None of that mattered though, he never died. Both of their plans had failed.

_He never died, and she didn't kill him._

They barely managed to save the bastard, and ever since then, he's been mooching off of life support in his sleep.

He was always saying that she would never understand the pain that he went through.

This time, he was actually lying.

_She knows what it's like to lose everything you've ever cared about._

The car rolled to a stop, and the two women walked into the hospital. They approached the front desk, and her mother took the flowers from her. Unlike her life, the nurse and her mother exchanged civil words for polite greetings.

"Honey, did you hear that? He's awake!"

Sakura only offered a smile in reply, fingering the boxcutter in her pocket.

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_i'll explode like mt. pele. _


End file.
